Who Have You Turned Into, Clara Oswald?
by sassqueenclara
Summary: She's different to the woman he had met while he still had his previous face. He wouldn't know how to react to her now.


If he could see her now, he would be heartbroken.

The innocence and naivety that ebbed from the young woman – gone. The stars and wonder in her eyes, that was still there; that would never fade from her.

All she had wanted to do was travel. 101 Places To See had been her goal, but then she had wanted to help look after The Maitlands. They had _needed_ her, and she had never been one to leave her loved ones in a situation without someone. That was where had innocence had been. Looking after her loved ones; being the compassionate woman that she was.

He had come whirling into her life dressed as a monk and knocking on her door, already knowing her name and that sparked a curiosity within the woman. She had always been a curious one; this was nothing different. Everything moved so fast within that day and the next thing she had said to him was "come back tomorrow, and I might say yes."

Oh, how that yes had been eager.

The stars and wonder that he had seen in her eyes only intensified – now the stars were reflected in them; burning in them properly as she saw the universe. She travelled the universe and could still be home in time for make sure Angie and Artie did their homework. She would always still be home in time for tea.

Her compassion had nearly been the death of her, but she would have done it again. She would have jumped into his time stream one hundred times over if she had to. She'd keep breaking herself into millions of pieces, leaving her echoes scattered across time and space just to make sure he was okay. He would have done the same for her, really. He did, near enough – he walked right into his time stream just so he could pull her back out. Tell her that she had done well. Tell her that her compassion could have killed her.

But they went on.

Her joy and wonder became one of the most beautiful things about her. That childish innocence because she could cross the stars and still come home for tea meant everything to him. That compassionate woman who, when it was most needed, reminded him that sometimes the world just needed a bit of love; a bit of help – the world needed _a doctor._ Her warmth had touched him at the most vital time.

Her warmth was still there when he regenerated, except now she was broken.

He had sent her back twice, yet she had come crawling back to him. _Clawed_ her way back because she didn't want to be without him. She knew he was dying but she didn't want to let him die alone (not that he had been alone). Her warmth and love had turned to frustration and anger because she had not been allowed to grieve, but instead to look after that new man – that stranger – because he had needed _her._ As ever, he had needed her. She didn't dare look after herself during that time – she was his carer now.

Her innocence and naivety had floated away.

Yet she had managed to find a life of her own outside of the time travel. She had managed to find something that could keep her grounded on Earth when _she_ needed it most, not that she had realised it. She had become to addicted to her double life.

Only when it was gone that she realised; felt it in her bones. The sinking feeling of never being able to be in her her loved one's arms again, knowing that she would never love another like that ever again.

He could only stand and watch as she crumbled into her sadness, her grief; everything that eventually became a deep depression that he thought that once bright and shining individual would never come out of. In fact, he didn't even watch – she had sent him to find his home. She had told him she would be fine.

They were both lying to each other, not that either one knew it until they met on Christmas again. That was when he saw how truly bad it had become. The fact she was willing to die just to see her loved one again nearly broke his hearts.

The stars in her eyes were gone, but he was determined to bring them back again.

So began their glory days.

The woman did everything for herself now – she still cared of course, that was only within her nature – yet there was a flair to everything she did that suggested _this is my time, and you can't do anything about it._ They launched themselves headfirst into adventure and danger and didn't care back out – who were they to back out?

But then...

He grew to worry about his Mayfly. His fleeting companion, the one who had started out with the stars in her eyes before they dimmed; the one who now only had fire in her eyes.

Despite all that, there were still the moments where she would remind him that she was _his_ carer, and that he had to care for the world and the universe around them. Yet they were only _moments._ She could go in guns a-blazing for she cared.

Her fire was now her beauty; unassuming and slow. She had grown up.

She was now a force to be reckoned with, and that was her shell; compassionate lay deep within and mainly hid itself. She was trying to rebuild that broken form with adventure and addiction; an addiction that would ultimately be the end of her.

Perhaps her beauty was her addiction; deadly and quick.

She was not the same as when he had first properly met her.

If only his last face could see what she had become.

If he could see her now, he would be heartbroken.

If he could see her now, he would ask:

"Who have you turned into, Clara Oswald?"

* * *

 **A/N: I have a lot of feelings about Clara Oswald and my friend brought it to my attention that Eleven would probably be a bit heartbroken to see how she turned out after he had regenerated. She's a lot different to how she started out.**

 **Any feedback would be appreciated!**

 **-sassqueenclara**


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